


When everything falls, our love will stand

by Herbeloved82



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:28:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28237716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herbeloved82/pseuds/Herbeloved82
Summary: When yet another end of an era arrives and another "home" falls, Yusuf and Nicolo finds peace and comfort in a different and freeing relationship. While the last free kingdom of Spain sees its decline, they stand, strong in each other's love.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21
Collections: The Old Guard Gift Exchange 2020





	When everything falls, our love will stand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [karanoid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/karanoid/gifts).



> This story is for @karanoid. I really hope it's what you wanted to read. Merry Christmas.

It was still dark outside when Yusuf woke up for Fajr. He made sure not to wake Nicolo. It was a miracle he wasn’t already up and dressed, ready to start his day before the sun was up and help as many as he could. 

There were dark circles under his eyes and his light skin was paler than Yusuf liked. Nicolo was working himself to an early grave and no, the fact he wouldn’t stay dead wasn’t a good enough reason for Yusuf not to worry. 

When they left Jerusalem behind, Yusuf never noticed how quickly things turned into something new and different, but since they discovered their immortality, the swirling of dynasties and empires, of kingdoms and places, became unstoppable. 

After wandering around for decades, fighting for the people who needed them the most, laying low when it was necessary, after visiting lands they never even dreamed about visiting one day, after feeling on their skin more deaths than a mere human was supposed to try, they decided to move to Spain. 

After centuries, the fall of Jerusalem still haunted them, but another fall colored their nightmares of the many shades of spilled blood. They were in Constantinople when the city was lost and almost totally destroyed by the frenzy of men thirsty for blood and power. The screams woke them up at night, the images of women and children raped in the streets by people wearing the white cowl with the red cross in the middle fed their nightly terror for years, branded in their minds never to be forgotten. 

Spain had sounded as a good compromise. It was big enough for them to move around freely after spending time in a place without the need of changing country. They visited all the major ports and cities. Yusuf was glad to be a merchant again. After two centuries spent fighting, it was good to be allowed to rest.

It was also in the middle. The same sea divided it from their home lands. Yusuf thought it was poetic, if they couldn’t go back home - and to what now? Everyone they knew was long gone, everything they had known and loved changed or was destroyed - at least they could be close to the places where they had been happy in another lifetime, when they couldn’t even imagine that the other half of their souls was waiting for the moment they would meet. 

Nicolo never complained. He was happy if Yusuf was happy. He accepted to work with him, for him, or even for people Yusuf thought could use his help. Nicolo wasn’t in any way subdued or tamed, he was just free to do what made him happy for the first time in his life, and it looked like what made Nicolo di Genova happy was to make sure Yusuf al-Kaysani had everything he wanted. 

So it often happened that while Yusuf used all the skills he learned in his first life to once again surround himself with beautiful silk and exotic spices, Nicolo took the role of his bodyguard, an experienced soldier who only lived to protect his master. 

The first time it happened they were in Malaga and someone made a crude joke about the Frankish liking to serve his master. 

They used the word in the most dispregiative way, but Yusuf decided not to act upon the offense. Nicolo didn’t even see the word as an offense, just an explanation of how he saw himself. It had started that night, the strange play of balance and release they had going between them. The powerplay was erotic and even if Yusuf didn’t have a word to name it, he knew both needed this release sometimes. 

The only time they left Spain was for a small journey to the Ottoman Empire. Yusuf needed to buy more silk and the Sultan Mehemed II was known for his love for beauty and expensive gifts. Who better then the people used to serve him, to help Yusuf in his hunt? 

They came back with more than silk and jewels. Omasya was a capital, a place of beauty and wealth, of history and hard earned peace. A jewel in the crown of the Empire. There Yusuf found more than he hoped for. 

His name was well known. Sure, the people didn’t know he was the same al-Kaysani who first started one of the most profitable trade between the Ottoman Empire and Spain, but that wasn’t important. 

His family’s fame preceded him and people were eager to greet him. Nicolo was a silent shadow by his side, protecting him from the unknown, Yusuf never felt safer knowing his beautiful lover had his back. 

It happened during a visit to the Hammam. Nicolo, who wasn’t used to such a place, was shy at first, he stood, awkwardly in a corner, his eyes following everyone who entered. Hammams, Nicolo found out that day, were places where men would talk about trades, business, and pleasure, while having their needs catered for. 

Nicolo had nothing to compare this with, so he kept his mouth shut and his eyes open, while Yusuf worked his magic with words. It was a gift God gave him, since he was a child Yusuf had pursued many talents and skills, talking was one of those. 

Poetry came natural to him, Nicolo knew well, but also any other kind of word flew from his love’s lips with an easiness that wasn’t of this world. 

While charming the people who wanted to be counted among this merchant’s friends, Yusuf never stopped to focus his attention on Nicolo even when the talking reached slow moments. He just constantly wanted to make sure his still too shy lover was still comfortable enough to stay. 

Nicolo had accepted and adapted to different aspects of Yusuf’s culture and for that Yusuf was grateful, but he knew better than to overwhelm Nicolo and push him too far away from his comfort zone. 

That too was slowly changing, but Nicolo needed his time and pushing him was never a good idea. 

Perhaps being so attuned to Nicolo was the reason why he noticed immediately when someone new caught his attention. 

A beautiful man, the same age Nicolo was when he joined the crusaders, Yusuf thought, his body covered in bruises and welts, walked in proudly. His long neck marked by teeth, a clear sign of ownership. 

“That’s the sadr-ı aʾzam’s new favorite.” One of the merchants provided when he misunderstood Yusuf’s lingering gaze. 

“The boy was a gift from the Sultan himself, one raised in his personal Harem.” Another added. 

“Skilled in all forms of pleasure.” Was whispered by someone. “Any form of it.” 

Yusuf listened but his eyes kept darting to Nicolo and the eager way he looked at the other man. At first, for a long moment, he was jealous. Then he recognized the light in Nicolo’s eyes. Curiosity. Nicolo saw how proudly those marks were carried, in every move of this nameless man was clear how much he was showing them, to make sure everyone would see and know. Everyone watched but no one dared to approach him. 

It was late that night, when Nicolo and Yusuf were finally alone that they had one of the talks that changed their life once again.

“You look pensive, my love.” 

Nicolo had been quieter that night. Only a few words left his mouth and only when he was personally addressed by someone. Yusuf worried, in silence, that the hammam had been too much for him. 

He was up for a shock. So typical of his love to always surprise him. Yusuf should have known that by now. 

“I’m sorry my soul. My mind has been far away all day.” Nicolo answered, a gentle smile on his lips. They were on the terrace their room offered, not ready yet to retire for the night and yet in need to be as close as possible. 

“No need to apologize.” Yusuf offered, knowing how sometimes Nicolo needed to be reminded of that simple truth. 

“Do you want to tell me what is keeping you away from me?” 

Nicolo looked at him, his eyes suddenly full of the fire Yusuf loved so much. “Nothing could keep me from you, but I have to admit - there is something I need to tell you. I just don’t know how.” 

That worried Yusuf. 

“You know, my moon, there is nothing you can’t tell me.” 

“I know,” Nicolo assured him, and yet it was clear he found it difficult to tell Yusuf what was in his mind. “I just, I’m not used to talking about this.” 

“I like when people misunderstand my silence for not knowing the language,” he began and Yusuf smiled. It happened so many times it was a joke between them now, to bet when people would wrongly assume Nicolo didn’t understand what they were saying just to have him jump straight into the conversation like he was a part of it since the beginning. 

“It gives me time to analyze the various situations, like today. They thought I didn’t understand so they spoke freely. They assumed they were free and I - I appreciated it.” 

That caught Yusuf’s attention. 

“You appreciated them speaking freely about the young man who was wearing his master’s marks?” Yusuf clarified for both of them. 

Nicolo nodded, glad that Yusuf said it aloud. 

“I want that.” Nicolo blurred out so fast Yusuf only knew he understood it right because of the way his lover’s face flared up. The blush that blossomed on his face was all the confirmation he needed, yet he was speechless. 

Nicolo, his Nicolo wanted to wear his marks? But that was impossible, because of their condition. 

No, Yusuf thought, it was something deeper, something so much more deeper than just showing pretty marks with pride. It was the need to belong, it was what the marking meant in truth. 

“You want to be mine. You want to know you are owned.” 

“That’s all I always wanted, Yusuf, I just didn’t know it was possible.” He said honestly. 

Sometimes Yusuf still forgot how innocent Nicolo was. In many fields he was like a white canvas, unstained, untouched, only waiting for Yusuf to paint it like he wanted. This was new and possibly dangerous, a wrong move and everything they built together could be destroyed. 

“Are you sure my love? I need you to be totally sure. If we do this, if we walk this path, it can’t be undone.” 

The silence between them was now filled with expectation and thick with nervous energy. 

“That’s why I will give you one day to think about this. One whole day so that when you’ll come back to me with your answer I will know you really are sure and aren’t speaking out of a misplaced need to experience new things.” 

Nicolo was usually very attentive, he didn’t like to speak without knowing all the facts, but he also was impulsive and passionate. This time Yusuf needed him to be sure it really was what Nicolo wanted. 

When Nicolo only nodded his head, Yusuf was both surprised and relieved. It looked like Nicolo had already known this would have been his reaction. It wasn’t a no, but it wasn’t a yet either, at least for now. 

Both needed time to think. Yusuf couldn’t deny he was excited. He never thought he could have this with Nicolo, but he had always been curious about the dynamic. Could it really be that the Almighty was offering yet one more gift in the person of Nicolo?  
The answer came to him the next day when Nicolo was waiting for him on the terrace. 

“Your answer?” He asked, and waited. What he saw was what he always wanted and never dared to ask for. He knew he was already blessed enough to have Nicolo in his life, but this, this was everything and more. 

“I want, I need to be yours, Yusuf, in every possible way.” Nicolo said and there was not an ounce of doubt in his clear and at the same time soft voice. 

“Then, my moon, kneel for me.” 

When Nicolo elegantly dropped on his knees for Yusuf for the very first time, it was like time stopped its flowing for a moment, allowing Yusuf to fully enjoy the moment. He knew he would never forget this. 

“You look beautiful on your knees, my love.” 

Nicolo was a masterpiece and it only belonged to Yusuf. The way he blushed to that simple compliment was the most endearing thing he ever had the luck to witness. 

“Tell me what you want, Nicolo.” He asked, because he knew he had to be careful now. He was only in charge as long as Nicolo was fully happy and satisfied, as long as he could offer him everything he needed. 

“I - I am not sure. Anything, everything.” He answered as best as he could. His words sound clingy and needy and yet Yusuf never heard more truthful words coming from another human being. 

“I will give you everything, Nicolo. Everything you ever wanted.” He promised. 

Yusuf eased Nicolo into their new dynamic little by little. Small things at first, things they already did many times but that now got a different meaning. 

Nicolo loved to be used for Yusuf’s pleasure and Yusuf took full advantage of such eagerness. 

It was like discovering Nicolo all over again. All those small quirks Yusuf saw before but never fully understood were now clear. 

Nicolo liked it rough. He liked to pretend he didn’t have a choice. It was all part of all the lies drilled into his skull by bigots and blind old men who took too much pleasure in poisoning the mind of others. 

Nicolo felt humiliated by his own sexuality. Too many times he was told he was wrong, an abomination and the worst of all a depraved sinner. He ended up believing those lies. Now he needed humiliation to be a part of his sexual relief. 

He was born to serve and Yusuf gave him a new Master in his person. Nicolo loved and hated how needy he was now that he could freely express himself. One of his favorite things to do was to serve Yusuf with his mouth, and how was Yusuf supposed to say no? 

“Divine.” Yusuf whispered the first time Nicolo sat between his legs, his erection pressed against the soft silk of his pants, untouched, while a wet stain grew bigger where his cock leaked of precum. 

“So eager for me, so perfect.” Yusuf kept saying, making it impossible for Nicolo to listen to anything else but his voice. 

Nicolo had freed Yusuf’s cock from the trapping of his clothes and was now worshipping it with his mouth and tongue. He sucked at the cockhead, moaned when the first drops of precum hit his tongue, and then he used his flat tongue to lick up and down the shaft. 

Yusuf grasped at Nicolo’s soft hair, his fingers sinking in the luscious locks, anchoring himself. He used the grasp to push his head down, forcing Nicolo to take every inch of his cock. Nicolo struggled, but never tried to push Yusuf away. 

“Deeper, you can take me deeper.” Yusuf moaned, his voice broken by lust and desire.

Nicolo tried to breath through his nose, fighting his reflexes once again but Yusuf didn’t let him go, he didn’t let Nicolo have second thoughts and doubt himself. It was in that glorious moment he felt Nicolo’s lips against his balls. When he looked down, he saw Nicolo had tears on his cheeks, but also a blissed expression in his eyes. 

His orgasm drew nearer and nearer with every suck, with every movement that sinful mouth up and down his cock, with every hollowing of his cheeks and swirl of his tongue. 

Yusuf was still coming deep down Nicolo’s throat when his cock gave an interested twitch the moment he saw how eager Nicolo was to swallow every drop of cum he had to give. 

“You’re fantastic. Your mouth was made to suck me.” He said when he got back enough control he could articulate his words again. 

“Thank you, Sayd.” 

If Nicolo wasn’t the portrait of lust and sin, with his lips wet, red and swollen, and a thread of his cum running from a corner of his mouth, Yusuf didn’t know what could be. 

Everytime they died and came back, their bodies were the exact same they were at the time of their first death. At first Yusuf didn’t fully understand what that meant, now, after claiming Nicolo as his time and time again, he knew. 

Nicolo would always be tight, impossibly so. To breach his muscles and thrust into him, would always feel like sinking in a sea of warm and wet velvet. Because of that Yusuf was always very careful, he would always take his time preparing him. 

Warm oil was always at reach in their houses, but not this time. This time Yusuf had other plans for his beautifully depraved lover. 

Nicolo was lying in their bed, his glorious body a feast for Yusuf’s eyes and senses. His cock was hard and angry red, a beautiful contrast with the dark leather he used to tie his balls. He was panting, his mouth open, his chest, neck and face flushed. He was begging already, but Yusuf wasn’ ready to show him mercy. 

Yusuf sat between Nicolo’s spread legs, one hand tormenting his aching cock while he used the other to circle Nicolo’s tight opening. 

“Relax aleefy, and just feel.” 

He knew Nicolo was so sensitive now, even the gentlest touch would be too much, but he didn’t stop. 

“Sayd, please.” Nicolo begged and Yusuf smirked. No, no mercy at all. 

When he pushed two of his oiled fingers inside his hole, Nicolo went tense for just a moment, then it was like something snapped inside him. He went wild, Yusuf’s beautiful and wild stallion, one only he could tame. 

“Yusuf, Sayd, please -” He screamed, breathing hard. His cock leaked more precum making his stomach shine under the candle light. 

“Please what, aleefy?” 

He wanted Nicolo to tell him. He needed to hear his angelic voice beg for what he wanted. 

“Arjook akthar, arjook neekany, bekua” (“Please more. Please fuck me, hard.”)

Yusuf loved when Nicolo was so far gone in pleasure he forgot his own language. He loved it when he switched to Yusuf’s language. This was the language for love and pleasure, for desire and lust. The only one they ever used to share those moments, the only one Nicolo ever used when they had sex. 

Here it was, what Yusuf suspected. “You love the burn, don’t you, Nicolo?” He asked, teasing clear in his voice. Oh how much he loved his wild moon. 

“Tahtaj an tashor bekela al-alam wa al-motaa Indma takoon hakatha” (“You need to feel both pain and pleasure when you are like this.”) 

“Ajal, Ajal, ana ashor” (“Yes, yes I do.”) 

It was good to hear Nicolo so free to express his feelings. It was everything Yusuf ever wanted, to free him from the chains of his past. 

When he deemed Nicolo ready to take his cock, Yusuf pulled back his fingers and the whine that simple act tore from Nicolo’s mouth was music for his ears. 

Yusuf used the same hand he used to open Nicolo to spread oil on his cock before he led it at Nicolo’s opening. 

Nicolo tensed, just for a moment, when the fat cockhead breached him, so much thicker than just fingers, but soon he relaxed. 

“Hakatha, daani adkul” (“That’s it, let me in.”) Yusuf growled, pushing inside Nicolo until his balls slapped against his pale and soft ass. 

Nicolo’s body was made for pleasure, to serve and be rewarded and claimed time and time again. 

Yusuf enjoyed the sensation Nicolo’s body gave him for a few moments. He stayed put, deep inside him, unmoving, his gaze locked to Nicolo’s, before he began to build a punishing and brutal rhythm. 

With every thrust, he only left his cockhead inside Nicolo before slamming all the way in, again and again. 

Nicolo locked his long legs behind Yusuf’s back, pushing himself closer to his master, opening up for him more, allowing Yusuf to go deeper, to claim him fully. 

It was primordial and rough, animalistic and everything they both needed. Yusuf claimed Nicolo’s mouth like he was claiming everything of him, demanding and taking everything. 

Their bodies were one now, sweaty and tied together so deeply one couldn’t say where Yusuf finished and Nicolo began. 

"Arjook, arjook daani akthif" (“Please, please let me come, master”) Nicolo screamed while his pleasure echoed in the room, filling the air between them. 

“Lais kabl an afaal, habibi” (“Not before I do, beloved”) The smirk Nicolo saw when he opened his mouth to beg more, made him close his mouth with a snap. His good pet knew better than to try his luck. 

Only when his thrusts began to falter and Yusuf felt his orgasm approaching, he swiftly used the sharp blade he prepared to cut the ties around his lover’s balls. Nicolo screamed again, a mixture of pain and relief in his voice. 

He came inside Nicolo, marking him with his cum, claiming him as his and his alone. He didn’t touch Nicolo’s cock, feeling still possessive, even with his spent cock still inside his body. 

“Akthifly, habibi” (“Come for me, my love”) Yusuf ordered knowing that Nicolo wouldn’t deny him. He wasn’t disappointed. His Nicolo came, hard, spilling his release between their bodies, just because of Yusuf’s voice, he came only on his cock and it was perfect. Nicolo was pure perfection. 

What was supposed to be a quick journey, lasted for months. They decided to take their time to explore the length of Nicolo’s submission in a place where no one would judge them. Yusuf never regretted his decision, not after seeing Nicolo blossoming under his care, free to be who he was meant to be since the beginning. 

After coming back, Spain became home for a long time but something was changing, fast. Yusuf had a bad feeling, something in the back of his brain was telling him that soon he wouldn’t be allowed to call this place home any longer. He hoped he was wrong, but couldn’t shake the feeling they were doomed once again to watch something they loved being destroyed. 

The first sign came to them in 1469, when Ferdinand of Aragon and Isabella of Castille announced their wedding. The two kingdoms together were powerful enough to declare war on many other countries, and part of their attention was already focused on Africa. 

Yusuf still remembered how concerned Nicolo had been. He didn’t pay too much attention to what Aragon and Castille were doing. His trade wasn’t threatened by this marriage and at the moment that was all Yusuf cared about. There were people working for him he cared for and as long as he had enough to pay them a fair amount of money for their service, Yusuf was a happy and unconcerned man. 

Nicolo didn’t share his optimistic view of the world, he was worried about the people surrounding Isabella, and the way she lived her religion. To call her a Catholic extremist was, in Nicolo’s opinion, a compliment and not even close enough to define her nature. 

Before ten years passed, Yusuf had to admit Nicolo had been right to be worried. He still remembered the day Nicolo broke down in fear. It was the first time it happened since Constantinople and Yusuf didn’t understand what caused such a reaction until one of the old fisherman in Alicante who told him about the news. 

Isabella and Ferdinando established the Spanish Inquisition. It was said this one was different from the Catholic one, under the Pope’s control, worse somehow. Isabella’s confessor himself was behind its creation and when Yusuf asked what its role would be, the answer froze the blood in his veins. To make sure the Catholic orthodoxy would remain in their kingdoms. 

Nicolo knew better than others what that meant, that was the reason behind his break. Ferdindando and Isabella were the de facto monarchs of Spain. Only the kingdom of Granada stood still independent. But for how much longer could they resist? 

It wasn’t a conscious decision, but soon after that day, they moved to Granada, and that’s where they still were. Their home for the past decade or something. Soon it would be time to move, he was just afraid Nicolo wasn’t ready. 

“Good morning, my heart.” A sleepy voice said, taking Yusuf from his dark thoughts. When he turned, Nicolo was looking at him with his bright blue eyes. Like always he took Yusuf’s breath away, even when he was obviously exhausted. 

“Good morning my soul.” He answered, because there was nothing on this land who would keep Yusuf from greeting his love in the morning, no matter how worried he was. 

Yusuf wanted to add more. He wanted to tell Nicolo to stay today, to rest, but he knew it would be useless. They had the same argument for weeks now. Everyday Yusuf would beg Nicolo to rest and every day he would be denied. 

Every day Nicolo would roam the streets and make sure he could be of service to the many struggling families in their neighborhood. At first people didn’t trust Nicolo, with his fairy skin and his light hair, with eyes as blue as the sea, he was a stranger to them. Not just because of the cross he wore, or the accent with which he spoke Spanish. No, it was because it was clear he wasn’t from that land. 

Nicolo hadn’t had land since he left Genova for the first crusade. Yusuf worried about that. A man without his roots was a man who would suffer alone, misunderstood by many, but Nicolo was also one of the strongest people Yusuf ever met, and he didn’t let adversities break him. 

He made a home for himself by Yusuf’s side and into his heart and Yusuf was always grateful to the Almighty for the precious gift that was Nicolo. If only his love could be a bit less stubborn and just rest for a day, everything would be fine if not a bit better at least. 

“What is in your mind, my love?” Yusuf asked when the silence between them became too heavy. Nicolo had left then and completed his morning ablutions while Yusuf prayed. Now he was already dressed and ready to leave the house. 

His clothes were similar to what Yusuf wore, just more practical. Nicolo’s chest was covered by a padded breastpiece, hidden by the long tunic the color of a stormy sky, his sword by his side, like always. Nicolo looked like the protector he was. 

“There are rumors, Yusuf.” That caught his lover’s attention. It was rare for Nicolo to use his full name, and when he spoke he did it with such seriousness, he knew Nicolo was finally ready to talk. 

“Hernando de Talavera is losing his power over the council.” He stated matter of factly. Nicolo wasn’t a man ready to anger but he was even more dangerous when he was cold like this.

When Yusuf first heard the name, he wasn’t sure who the man even was. A clergyman, educated and somehow prone to listen to the religious minorities, he sounded like a somehow good person, or at least one armed of good intention. 

Sadly both he and Nicolo met many like him, all of them failed and were defeated in the end, by their weakness or the power of their opponents. 

“His substitute worries me.” 

Nicolo’s distress, the way tears were pooling in his eyes and the barely noticeable shivering of his hands worried Yusuf in return. 

In the years they lived in Granada, they had seen things getting different, fast. In Granada they had learned to find beauty in the simplest things, to enjoy the freedom of speaking different languages and always find someone who would answer you. Nicolo was faced, once again, with the knowledge that what he was taught was wrong, and he allowed his soul to heal a bit more, thanks to Yusuf. 

People could still live together, and it had been beautiful at the beginning. Now, things weren’t the same anymore. 

Only a few years prior, the priests, rabbis and imams were seen celebrating mixed marriages without complaint. All united in the search for peace and happiness for their people. Sure, some of them, the most law-abiding, still refused to do that, but that was life. 

Nicolo and Yusuf learned people can change their view of the world only if they really wanted to. To force them to change their mind was useless, so they refrained to even try and focused their attention on those people who would accept them and their help. 

Nowadays to find people who would go through the hardship to learn a different culture and accept those differences into their lives was harder and harder. Yusuf had been pained by how those mixed weddings, which gave him hope for a better future, were now almost nonexistent and it was almost impossible to find a Catholic priest who would celebrate them. 

Rabbis called their people close. Synagogues began to close down when the rites weren’t ongoing, and they were being defended by armed soldiers. Mosques were doing the same, not allowing people in if they couldn’t prove they were true believers. The Sultan’s guards watched over them. 

Every place that was once a sign of communion and peace, was now a sad reminder of how terrifying and destructive hate could be. 

“Talk to me, Nicolo.” Yusuf asked. He stood in front of the love of his life, holding his face between his hands. It was a long time since he saw Nicolo so close to breaking down. 

“He was always opposed to the Inquisition, Yusuf, but now that his place was taken by de Cisneros, things will change, and fast.” 

Those were names that Yusuf heard more than once, but he never cared too much for them. As long as they didn’t do something extreme, Yusuf made his peace with knowing that Spain was a Catholic country, close to becoming united. 

He wanted to calm Nicolo down, needed to find words to soothe his soul, but he wasn’t sure those words existed. 

“They won’t show mercy. The nobles will be safe, they will be offered a golden exile and take it.” 

How many times have they seen the same thing happening? Sure, sometimes the Princes and rulers would pay with their life the price of defeat, but more often it was the population who was left alone to feel the wrath of the winners. 

They already saw the exact same thing happening. Invaders arriving and deciding they knew better than anyone else what could save souls. Yusuf was there when the first news of forced conversion - usually happening after days of tortures - reached their ears. At first they didn’t want to believe it, but soon enough they witnessed with their own eyes the horror people blinded by faith and hate could unleash on others. 

Back then Nicolo and Yusuf had been enemies, fighting on opposite sides of that senseless war. Now they would stand side by side but the end would be the same. 

To be forced to embrace a religion that wasn’t yours, that didn’t belong to your fathers and the fathers of your fathers before you, or die at the end of men who couldn’t remember what mercy was. 

“You think there is no hope for this city.” Yusuf said at the end, and he felt his heart shatter into pieces, for the man he loved and for the people he cared about. 

“Perhaps a few months, but once the siege will be set, no. No hope will be left by then.” Nicolo answered honestly, tears already staining his beautiful face. 

Hey spent the day together. Speaking to the people and walking around. The atmosphere was tense and the worry was so thick in the air Nicolo and Yusuf could taste it on their tongue, its bitter aftertaste something they knew already. 

Who could was already leaving the city. Families with mixed heritage and the meaning to leave everything behind were closing down business and shops and were ready to look for a new land where to live in peace. 

Spain, that was once, and not too long ago, the safe shelter for different cultures and religions, was now becoming a place of conservative thoughts and blindness. 

It was mid day when they stopped at the Alhambra - the red palace built under the light of torches. That had been their first stop when they arrived in Granada. Yusuf had explained the reason of the name and the legends at the origins of the castle itself. Not for the first time Nicolo was left speechless in front of something magnificent, built by people he was taught were just ignorant and uncouth and unworthy of living in the Holy Land. 

The architecture was like nothing he saw before. Nicolo loved the basilicas and cathedrals he learned to know back home, and he never thought he could see something more majestic than those. He was wrong. This castle was just one of the many examples he saw during his long life of how wrong he had been. 

The sun was high in the sky and had already reached its zenith. The whole place shone like it was surrounded by a fire of gold, red, and orange. 

“Proprio come te, amore mio. Questo posto è un incendio di pura passione.” (Exactly like you, my love. This place is a blaze of pure passion). Nicolo said using his born language, one he knew not many spoke in that part of the city. 

This was the first time Nicolo did something to hide his love for Yusuf from people who could mean them harm. That was how much things changed in just a few years. 

Yusuf was his sun, the passion his lover awoke in him was hot like fire and soothing like a gentle breeze in summer. Yusuf was warm and colorful, he was everything Nicolo never thought he could have. 

Yusuf felt a stab of pain in his heart when he saw Nicolo so unsure, so afraid to express his feelings for fear of making things hard for Yusuf. He saw a few people gaze at them with suspicious and clear snarls on their faces. Bigots were raising their heads and Yusuf didn’t know how long would pass before violence escalated. 

For now they just needed to be a bit more careful when outside together, but soon Yusuf was afraid they would have to defend themselves from physical attacks. They were warriors but what about the common people? What about the children who wouldn’t understand why they were forbidden to play with their friends. What about the people who were suddenly forbidden to love someone with a different skin or religion? 

Yusuf began that day to put his affairs in order, getting ready to move. Nicolo said nothing, but his devastated expression spoke volumes. 

It was late at night when they walked back home, still together, and once again they passed the Alhambra, now full of guards and soldiers. They were nervous, expecting to be attacked at any moment. 

Yusuf didn’t react, and thankfully neither Nicolo did, when the soldiers checked him for secret messages he could carry as a spy. It didn’t matter some of them knew Nicolo and where his loyalty lay, for all they cared he worked as a spy for both Aragon and Castille. After all he even looked like the queen in colors. 

When it was over and the guards were just pissed for wasting time with someone who wasn’t carrying any secret message and only had his sword as a weapon, they kept walking, in silence at first. 

Then they stopped to look at the splendid show offered by the castle kissed by the moonbeams . Unlike during the day, at night the place shone with all the shades of the purest polished silver. 

Unlike that very same morning, Yusuf took Nicolo’s hand in his and kissed his fingers, reverently. Oh how much he loved Nicolo’s hands, so soft and yet lethal, his long and slim fingers could belong to an artist and instead his love dedicated his life to fight for the people, amending times and times again all the wrong he did in the past. 

“At night this place becomes you, my soul. It shines with the kiss of the moon. It leads us home even when darkness surrounds us. You are my moon, Nicolo. Here and everywhere, you always lead me home, because you are my home.” 

“You incurable romantic.” Nicolo said, a light blush spreading on his face and a gentle smile on his lips. They touched foreheads, expressing their love like that. The darkness protected them from unwanted attention. They had enough for the day. 

*** 

Nicolo fears became reality a few days later. Horns woke them up, followed by the screaming of people and guards both. While many were rushing to the walls to see what happened, Nicolo led Yusuf to the stronghold. His sharp eyes needed the higher point they could reach to assert the situation without relying on others. 

Yusuf knew better than to question Nicolo when he was like that. He could still remember how his perfect aim had scared the army protecting Jerusalem. Never before had they seen someone as talented as the Frankish demon who was sent there to destroy their lives. 

“The siege began.” Three single words were enough to break Yusuf’s heart. The pain that leaked from Nicolo’s lips worried him. Nicolo was on the verge of breaking and even after so long, Yusuf still didn’t know how to keep it from happening. 

He had learned, through mistakes and misleads, how to put his lover together. He had learned about his needs and how to take care of them, and yet he still didn’t know how to keep him whole. 

At first not much happened. Granada was rich and food wasn’t a problem, but Yusuf knew better. Soon the goods people were used to would start to run out and the prices would skyrocket until the moment nothing would be left in the shops and markets. 

That was the point of the siege. It was a waiting game. The army outside the walls would wait until the people of Granada would be exhausted and hungry, until children would start to die and people would riot against each other. 

Spain wouldn’t risk the life of a single soldier, they just had to wait until the city would fall on its own. 

People already doubted Boabdil would be able to keep his people safe, and that worked in favor of the monarchs. Little by little the catholics began to raise their heads. They were innocent, they shared their faith with the monarchs, why were they forced to suffer with the infidels? 

Yusuf shook his head every time he heard something like this, but it happened so often now, he knew there was nothing he could do to change the people’s mind. 

At night Nicolo and Yusuf’s house became a place where people would meet and talk, a safe haven, one of the few still left, where everyone was welcomed. 

Those meetings changed in time. They began as a way to deal with what was happening. Some people wanted to fight, some wanted to escape the army waiting for their fall, some just wanted some words of comfort and hope for a better future. 

Many had already given up, knowing their life would change forever but some still didn’t want to stop believing things could change in their favor. For almost seven hundred years Granada stood, facing all the wars Castille declared on them, those people, a minority, believed the city would keep standing even this time. 

“That was before the kingdoms unified under one throne.” Nicolo said one day. Yusuf knew how much those words costed him. His eyes were clouded, his face pale. He didn’t sleep for days now. Crushing hopes was never in his intentions but hope could be a dangerous thing in times like that. 

Hope had the power to keep people going, even if their path would end in ruin and tragedy. Hope was a double edged sword and would push people into making harsh decisions. 

“The kingdom of Leon was already under Castille. Now that Aragon and Seville are one, ruled by monarchs who believe their power comes directly from God and their mission is to unify Spain, concluding what Rodrigo de Vivar started. They won’t stop until Granada will lose its freedom. There is no other way this siege will end.”

People turned against Nicolo that night. He didn’t defend himself when they called him a traitor and accused him to be on their side. He let them vent and Yusuf felt every word thrown against his lover piercing his own heart. 

The way Nicolo let them abuse him was just another way to make amends for his past wrongdoing. It was his guilt pushing him closer to the verge of the abyss and all he could do was to be there when his beautiful soul would shutter. 

Near the end only a few people kept coming to their house. The same people who already knew, long before Nicolo spoke his truth, how the siege would end. 

Nicolo broke into tears when the news came, Yusuf raged and cursed. The Sultan sold the city. He promised the keys to Ferdinando and Isabella. Apparently it was to save the citizens from starvation and plagues, but Yusuf knew better. 

Nicolo’s words about the nobles always finding a way to come back on top ringed in his memories. 

A choice was given. Stay and convert, or leave. Time was a crucial factor now. Nicolo didn’t believe for a moment that the choice would stand. 

“They believe it.” Nicolo said once, while packing. 

“What do you mean, my soul?” 

“They believe this is a choice they are giving the people. They think they are being magnanimous.” 

“You don’t believe they were?” 

“They are just gaining time, waiting for something, or someone.” 

Yusuf could see the logic in Nicolo’s words. It had sounded foreign to his ears, what Isabella and Ferdinando offered, but their words stood. People weren’t chased away from their houses. Yes, some violence happened already, but the army who kept the siege going, was now keeping the peace in Granada. 

Tension was high, but not insufferable. This was nothing like Jerusalem or Constantinople. No massacres, no slaughtering of innocent people. There weren’t bodies piling in the mosques. The places of worshipping weren’t being stained by the blood of the civilians looking there for safety. Women and children weren’t being raped there. It was terrible to have such thoughts but this was the reason why Yusuf didn’t trust the status quo, he just realized it when Nicolo spoke. 

“You think they are sending the Inquisition.” Yusuf finished for Nicolo. 

Time was a terrible enemy to fight. It kept flowing even when you wished it to stop. It didn’t offer rest or a chance to win. It was always ahead of you and nothing would change it. 

It only took days before a long line of people was seen gathering at the gates. Men, women and children, ready to leave the city for good. 

Different accents could be heard. Everyone tried to be proud, but there were tears in their eyes. Women and men both had their hair covered, they walked with their eyes downcast, even young children didn’t make a sound. 

From the walls the loud chatting of the people saying their farewells was the only sound that broke the evil silence. 

Some were carrying nothing with them. Their fathers came to Granada with nothing and made a life there, they would do the same in another land. Some carried everything they owned on carriages and horses. 

Their silence was deafening. This was the end of an era, Yusuf thought. By his side, Nicolo was his rock and anchor and he was Nicolo’s. 

There was a ship waiting for them. It would carry them to Malta. Another land in between, another place to visit, another life to live, and yet leaving everything behind, even their names, was harder this time. 

This time their home had been taken by the promise of peace. By a bloodless surrender and sweet smiles that hid poisonous thoughts. Somehow this hurt more than losing it to fire and war. This wasn’t peace. This was annihilation and no one seemed to understand it. This was the first step towards something worse. 

“Talk to me, Nicolo.” Yusuf demanded when they stepped on the ship, the captain a converso who they met years before, who promised them they would always have a place on his ship. 

Nicolo didn’t open his mind, he looked at the love of his life and silent like a mouse, he offered him his whip. 

When Yusuf took it, something in his gaze changed. Where once was warmth and gentleness was now a cold and calculating look. He opened the door of his cabin and stopped. 

“After you, abd.” (slave)

There was promise of pain and agony in his voice. Promise of absolution through pain. Yusuf knew what Nicolo needed, what both of them did to survive this loss and come out anew from it.  
When the door was locked behind him, Yusuf knew there wouldn’t be mercy for Nicolo, until the man truly begged for it. 

This was what his love needed and Yusuf was ready to give him everything. It was a promise he made a long time ago outside the rebuilt Jerusalem, one that he renewed in Constantinople and again in Omasya. 

It gained a new meaning every time Yusuf reminded himself of this promise. It became one of the reasons he lived for. 

His love for Nicolo took many forms and this was just one of them. It wasn’t wrong or right, it wasn’t what they always needed, but something they wanted sometimes, something that helped them to cope, like the slow mornings they spent in bed, or their nights full of passion. It was a part of them and Yusuf knew better than to try to deny those feelings. 

Nicolo would find freedom in pain. Yusuf would be the one to inflict that pain and purge Nicolo from his guilt and mislead guilt. Nicolo was his angel, but what were angels if not subjects to something bigger? 

Their love was what they had faith in. Both of them slaves of what they shared, both of them masters of their own life, sometimes they needed something different and this was one of those times. 

With one of his hands still lingering against the polished door of their cabin and one grasping the whip that soon would bite into Nicolo’s flesh, giving him what he needed, that everything would be fine at the end. They would be fine. 

END


End file.
